


when you're broken on the ground (you will be found)

by hopeless_hope



Series: you will be found [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Aunt May is a good aunt, Dad!Tony, Dear Evan Hansen References, Father-Son Relationship, Hurt Peter, Hurt/Comfort, Irondad, It happens, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Precious Peter Parker, Self-Hatred, Whump, Worried Tony Stark, peter and may get in a fight, she's doing her best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 12:07:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16892304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopeless_hope/pseuds/hopeless_hope
Summary: At first, Peter doesn’t register the sound. By the time he does, the branch he’s placed his feet on has snapped clean off the trunk of the tree, and despite his spidey sense and quick reflexes, it’s not enough.He’s already falling.Instinctively, he curls his fingers in, trying to press a trigger that’s not there. His breath catches when he remembers that he’s not Spider-Man right now. He’s Peter Parker. Panic shoots through him because he’s falling and he’s going to hit the ground this time.(Spider-Man’s never had to be afraid of falling. He always knew he’d rise again.)orPeter falls, but Tony picks him back up.





	when you're broken on the ground (you will be found)

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the song "You Will Be Found" from Dear Evan Hansen the Musical.

Whenever Peter’s upset, he climbs.

Swinging will always be his first love - the rise, the fall, the adrenaline - but there’s something about climbing higher and higher that makes him feel so at peace.

He’s never been able to trust the ground under his feet. Not when there’s always something ready to pull the rug out from under him. Just when he thinks he’s found solid ground again, it all starts to crumble.

So, he climbs.

Whenever he looks out at the world from up high, he remembers how small he is. And maybe at one point that might have been a scary realization, but now? Now it’s a comforting one. Because in the grand scheme of the universe, his problems are small.

Up high, Peter feels like he has so much more room to breathe than he ever does in the crowded streets of the city. He loves the sky. But there’s no room in the city for it.

So when Peter and May get into a heated argument after he comes home late from patrol one night, it’s not surprising that the first thing he does is run.

(Spider-Man fights, but Peter Parker always flees.)

He doesn’t think to grab anything before he leaves - not even a jacket. There’s a chill in the air, and it soothes the part of him that’s still burning with anger. He steps into the street and bitterly notes that May hasn’t tried to follow him. But he can’t even blame her.

Then again, May’s always trusted him not to make stupid decisions. Even in the heat of an argument, she’s granting him that same trust, and Peter tries to swallow down the part of him that tugs at his heart, tries to remind him that all she’s ever done for him is love him.

He considers going to Ned’s, but truth be told, he doesn’t really feel like answering all the questions he knows his friend will ask. He doesn’t want to deal with the worried looks and he definitely doesn’t feel like listening to Ned’s enthusiastic rambling. Not right now, at least. Plus, it’s late.

Really, he just needs air.

So, making a split-second decision, Peter heads to the closest place he knows that has trees: Forest Park.

It’s been awhile since he’s climbed a tree. The city doesn’t have many, and he usually ends up perched on top of a building anyway. It’s usually enough. But now, Peter just wants to be  _away_.

As he makes his way to the park, May’s voice rings in his ears, filling him with angry fire and scorching guilt and shame.

“Peter, I can’t keep letting you do this!” she had said strongly, gesturing a hand at his bruised face and split lip.

“It’s no big deal,” he insisted, brushing her off.

She ran an agitated hand through her hair. “Peter, that’s not the point! The point is that you keep going out there with that godforsaken suit and getting yourself beaten up. You’re neglecting school work, you don’t sleep, and I barely ever see you anymore.”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you,” Peter scoffed before he could stop himself. A hurt look flashed across May’s face before being replaced by one of fury.

“Excuse me?” she had said, voice low and threatening.

Peter flinched back defensively, guilt being smothered by defiance.

“Like you’re one to talk! You’re never home, even when I am!” he retorts, and May looks at him with an expression he’s never seen before.

“Peter Benjamin Parker, I don’t know what the  _hell_  has gotten into you, but you better put an end to it right now! I’m out there taking double shifts all the damn time to provide for you! I make sure we can make rent, that we have enough food, that we have enough money to keep you in school! So cut the bullshit!” she practically snarled, voice raised.

“Okay? And I’m out there helping people! I make sure people are safe, I save their lives, May! I make sure that what happened to Ben never happens to anyone else! I make sure that they never have to live through this  _fucking_ nightmare!” Peter yelled back, anger rising through him like a snake striking.

He knew as soon as the words left his mouth that he’d taken it too far. May recoiled, stung. The pain that broke through her expression was enough to have him running. He didn’t wait to watch her crumple.

He just fled.

Now he’s making his way as deep as he can into the thick of the trees, allowing his heightened senses to guide him in the dark. He vaguely hears various critters scuttling away from him, but he pays them no mind.

Once he’s far from any paths or lights, he eyes the tallest tree he can find and starts to climb. He uses his spider grip to get himself up to the first few branches, but after that, he allows himself to climb like a normal person, grabbing each branch like rungs on a ladder.

He doesn’t even register the height at first. All he focuses on is the rough feel of bark against his hands, the scrape of his shoes against the branches, and the sound of his own harsh breathing.

(Anything other than the sound of his own self-hatred.)

He ascends quickly, trying to leave behind the feeling of guilt and shame that claw at his ankles, desperate to pull him down.

In the end, it’s carelessness that finally does it.

At first, Peter doesn’t register the sound. By the time he does, the branch he’s placed his feet on has snapped clean off the trunk of the tree, and despite his spidey sense and quick reflexes, it’s not enough.

He’s already falling.

Instinctively, he curls his fingers in, trying to press a trigger that’s not there. His breath catches when he remembers that he’s not Spider-Man right now. He’s Peter Parker. Panic shoots through him because he’s falling and he’s going to hit the ground this time.

(Spider-Man’s never had to be afraid of falling. He always knew he’d rise again.)

He curls in the air, tucking his arms and knees in protectively, fear clogging his throat. The seconds seem to last forever. Distantly, he’s just glad he hadn’t made it too far up.

The impact knocks the breath out of him.

For a moment, he blacks out to a backdrop of pain. After a second, his vision clears but  _oh god, he still can’t breathe!_

He wheezes, willing air back into his lungs, but it somehow evades him. Panicked tears leak from his eyes as he gasps frantically, a desperate sound in the middle of the forest.

Peter’s just about to black out again when cool air meets his burning lungs, and he coughs, immediately curling at the pain in his ribs.  _Broken_ , he thinks dazedly. He tries to take a slower breath, but he can practically  _hear_  the grind of broken bones and he whimpers in pain.

For a few minutes, Peter just lays there, pain coursing through his body, his mind belatedly screaming at him that he’s in danger. Every inch of his body seems to hurt.

Belatedly, it occurs to Peter to call someone for help. With immense effort, he grits his teeth and tries to slide his hand into his pocket for his phone. His blood runs cold when all his fingertips meet is cloth.

He remembers, with sudden clarity, that his phone is still sitting on his desk where he’s left it when May called him down, hands on her hips and stern expression on her face.

It’s the middle of the night and Peter is cold and broken. He could scream and there would be no one to hear.

He is very much alone.

-

He doesn’t hear the sound of a suit landing.

He doesn’t hear the relieved sigh or see the figure that falls to his knees at his side. He doesn’t feel the hand that runs through his hair, afraid to touch him anywhere else. He doesn’t register the coat that’s delicately wrapped around his shivering frame.

He doesn’t hear the voice that tells him, “It’s okay now, buddy. I got you. We’re going home.”

-

Peter wakes up falling all over again.

He gasps, panicked, curling into a ball and immediately letting out a whine of pain.

“Easy, kid, you’re okay now. Your ribs are pretty badly fractured, and your arm is broken, but you’ll be okay,” a voice tells him calmly, and Peter turns his head quickly to find Tony watching him worriedly.

Peter blinks up at him in confusion, and Tony rushes to explain. “You’re okay,” he repeats calmly. “You scared us good, kid. May called me frantically, said you and her had gotten in a fight and that you ran off. You left your phone and she couldn’t get ahold of you. That’s when she came to me.”

Peter flinches, the memories quickly filtering in, and he looks away in shame. His eyes unwillingly fill with guilty tears, and he brings up his decent hand to swipe at them angrily.

A hand gently cups his cheek, turning it to face Tony.

“Kid, look at me. She’s not mad at you. In fact, she’s right outside,” Tony tells him softly, and Peter’s eyes widen in surprise, slow tears still leaking down his face. Tony gently wipes them away with his thumb.

“Why the look of surprise?” he asks, and Peter’s breath hitches in his throat.

“I thought - I thought she’d  _hate_  me,” he croaks, voice thick with self-deprecation.

Tony gives him a fierce look. “Peter, she could never. May loves you to the moon and back, and you know it. One little fight isn’t going to change that.”

Peter shakes his head insistently. “You don’t - you don’t understand what I  _said_ , Mr. Stark.”

Tony doesn’t let him continue. “Kid, she told me what happened. Doesn’t change how much she loves you. Should have seen how terrified she was when we brought you in and I told her where I’d found you.”

Peter looks at his mentor through watery eyes, filled with self-loathing. He doesn’t deserve May. And she deserves better than him.

Tony taps his cheek lightly. “Hey. Whatever you’re thinking - stop. It’s going to be okay, Pete, I promise,” he says firmly, ruffling Peter’s hair affectionately. “Now, let me go get her before she beats me for not telling her you’re awake.” Tony shudders dramatically. “That woman is scary. I’d hate to see her in a room with Pepper.”

Peter lets out a small laugh, and Tony gets up, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. Peter watches him go, already preparing himself to face his aunt.

Just before Tony closes the door behind him, he stops.

“Oh, and kid? If you ever need somewhere to go to get out of your head, all you gotta do is call me. I practically invented escapism,” Tony says with a wry smile.

And then the door clicks shut.

When May walks through moments later, looking hesitant and relieved, Peter’s overcome by a rush of love for her, and he knows that Tony was right.

It’s going to be okay.

(He’s home.)

-

 _Even when the dark comes crashing through_  
_When you need someone to carry you_  
 _And when you're broken on the ground_

**_You will be found._ **

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes you feel lost. Sometimes it's a fight with friends or family, other times it's the chaos of school and work, and sometimes you're just caught in the whirlwind of your own mind and no one sees you struggling.
> 
> Reach out. Reach up. Even when it's hard. Especially when it's hard.
> 
> If you need an ear, feel free to message me on tumblr @the-great-escapism. I won't always have the right things to say (I'm a struggling mess, too) but I will always listen. Oh, and anons can finally send in messages too, whoops. I didn't realize I'd had that turned off.
> 
> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated.


End file.
